


cats on the loose

by sylaise_lionheart



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Brotherhood: Final Fantasy XV, But its mega late like my previous one mm, Cat Date, Cats, Established Relationship, Fluff, Gladio Dealing With Idiots, Ignis Dealing with Idiots Including Gladio, M/M, Mild Language, birthday fic, crackfic, shape-shifting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:09:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27366337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sylaise_lionheart/pseuds/sylaise_lionheart
Summary: “You free tomorrow?”A thoughtful hum fills in the silence. “Yeah, I think so? Why?”Well then, he might as well get straight to the point. It’s past midnight and Noctis oh-so wants to get this out in the open before he forgets: “We should go on a date.”“‘kay.”“As cats.”“Sure.” A beat of silence. “Wait, what?”-“I bet my fortune the bastard moogled ‘Good Date Spots in Insomnia’.”When Noctis briefly looks up from his meal, Gladio is on the receiving end of a spiteful glare and bared fangs. The message from the midnight-coated feline is clear:”Don’t expose me, asshole.”
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia & Prompto Argentum & Noctis Lucis Caelum & Ignis Scientia, Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum
Comments: 13
Kudos: 58





	cats on the loose

**Author's Note:**

> HO BOY AM I LATE AGAIN FOR A BIRTHDAY FIC. Okay, the original plan is to post this precisely on October 25th. But hot damn, midterms hit and it's absolute misery. 
> 
> So, what crackfic did I pull out of my ass this time? Basically, the Line of Lucis can shape-shift into cats and turn other people into one as well. So it's kinda like another aspect of the Crystal's magic. With that idea, I present to you Noctis and Prompto going on a date as cats.
> 
> Alone. Or are they?
> 
> Buckle up, folks: you're about to witness my post-midterm misery and this one shot that went all over the place. By the way, feel free to comment down any grammatical or spelling errors I've made! I do want to make this fic as clean as possible :>
> 
> update: So I cleaned up some mistakes in grammar and format. Thanks to the peeps who point out my errors! aaa

Noctis isn’t fond of learning about dead people.

Wait, that sounds wrong and frankly insensitive. Let’s try that again, shall we?

Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum isn’t fond of learning history of all sorts-- whether be it a chronicle of all events that have revitalized or decimated Eos, a narration of how Insomnia has named itself as the capital city of Lucis, or a verbatim description of every Lucian ruler and their conquests. To him, they’re simply walls of text that are too monotonous to finish, or so he says to Ignis on one fateful day when his advisor’s caught him reading comics instead of history books.

However, there is one exception to this rule, and it comes in the form of the Rogue’s memoir. Disregarding the fact that she’s an honest-to-Gods assassin queen with a shuriken as her signature weapon, she has passed down a very interesting power to the rest of the generations. Based on what he has understood so far, this little inheritance is a gift from the Hexatheon themselves, a reward for the Rogue’s impressive expertise in stealth. In Noctis’ humble opinion, this is the closest as Lucian history can get to the Assassin’s Creed lore.

And by the grace of the Astrals above is it a useful ability to have-- maybe even better than the armiger itself.

“Noct, Prompto,” an exasperated Ignis deadpans. Noctis doesn’t even need to crane his neck to know his advisor is scanning their unfinished homework haphazardly laid about on top of the coffee table. “I suppose it is too much to assume that you both plan on finishing your review session?”

Beneath Noctis, Prompto sleepily caresses the prince’s back, “We gave up after six pages. It kinda stopped making sense when the metaphors became too complicated.”

Noctis meows in agreement, since he can’t articulate his input verbally at the moment. Still though, this simple communication beats the need to construct formal sentences that won’t offend anyone, especially the nobles. 

“Do you require my assistance then?” 

“Nah, we don’t want to bother you.” Prompto politely declines. The rebellious part of Noctis would argue however, since Ignis’ help meant less energy consumed and more brain cells saved. But again, he is a cat and Prompto is Prompto-- a considerate dork who gives the best belly rubs-- so he doesn’t do anything other than bury himself on the crook of the blonde’s neck.

“Very well,” Ignis thankfully accepts and that’s the end of that. Case closed-- now time to go back to sleep. “Dinner will be served in ten minutes. Noct, unless you plan on eating kibble tonight, I suggest you turn back before entering the kitchen.”

_Godsdamnit._

As Ignis leaves the duo sprawled on the couch like uncultured and sleep-deprived high school students (oh wait) and returns to the kitchen, Noctis grumbles his complaint— or, to be more specific, hisses. Prompto’s chest rumbles from chuckling as the hand that’s been gently caressing his fur settles onto his head instead. “So much for cat night, huh, bud?”

Noctis huffs yet makes no effort in removing himself from Prompto, coaxing another laugh from the blonde. 

“Hey, that tickles!” Prompto exclaims in-between his chuckling. Unfortunately, that does little to deter Noctis away from leaping at the opportunity to make Prompto suffer. This is payback for cheating in Mario Kart yesterday, and Noctis ensures that this retaliation bears the same weight as spamming the living shit out of red shells. 

Thankfully, he doesn’t have to wait long for Prompto to admit defeat after multiple attempts of prying Noctis away from him. “Okay, okay, I give! I give!”

Noctis finally pulls himself away and gives an equivalent of a smirk. But his plan to gloat his victory cuts itself short. Up this close, he can appreciate how out-of-breath and frazzled Prompto is, how his slight flush dusts his pale skin and emphasizes the freckles Noctis secretly adores. This is different from the expression Prompto wears after a long night: it’s wholly intimate, soft-spoken like the kid Prompto used to be back in elementary— a hushed echo imbued with promises and—

Sweet Six, the Astrals know exactly what They’re doing when They’ve decided to introduce Noctis to Prompto.

“Uh, Noct? You’re staring,” Prompto interrupts, “Is there something on my face?”

Noctis’ tail flickers back and forth— the only sign that informs Prompto that Noctis has acknowledged him. Instead of resorting back to their usual banter, Noctis lays his head onto his paws, closes his eyes, and purrs. 

He misses the way Prompto’s lips curl outwards, a soft sigh escaping from parted lips as a hand gently massages Noctis’ head. “You’re really cute as a cat. It’s no wonder you get away from things so easily.”

On a normal day, Noctis would give his boyfriend— _Titan’s toes, they’re actually together_ — a stink eye for having the audacity to call him adorable. But Prompto gives the best head scratches and there’s no fucking way Noctis will give it up just for an insult, so he lets it slide. Some day, Noctis will get his retribution, and that day shall not be tonight. So let it be decreed by His Royal Highness Noctis Lucis Caelum, something something insert all the other honorary titles here, as of… _Shit, what’s the date today?_

“...Love you,” Prompto mutters softly, as if he’s afraid that speaking out any louder than necessary will tamper the peace they’ve established. But Noctis catches it nonetheless, even if it rivals the whisper of a breeze, and gives Prompto’s wrist— the one that isn’t adorned by the blonde’s well-worn wristband— a gentle lick. 

“You should probably turn back, huh?” Prompto says after a few seconds of letting Noctis nuzzle his palm. “Iggy really might give you kibbles for dinner.”

Noctis groans in annoyance, much to Prompto’s delight. There goes the intimacy— off the chart like how Noctis destroys other people’s scores in the arcade. Following a languid stretch, Noctis jumps off Prompto’s chest, lands on the ground with innate ease, and shifts back to his normal self.

The shape-shifting, as Prompto likes to call it after he’s invested in some fantasy roleplaying games, is surprisingly a quick process. Much like how he can phase here and warp there, there’s no slow, jaw-dropping agony that Noctis has to endure. The same blue lights that pretty much entails the entirety of the Crystal’s magic conjure out of thin air during the transformation and eventually flitter out once the process is complete.

Then again, considering the Rogue’s abilities, bold and flashy are ill-equipped for espionage.

“Come on, bed. After dinner, it’s back to sleeping,” Noctis grumbles as he tries to maintain his nest-of-a-hair that’s been thoroughly ruffled from Prompto’s petting. But of course, he would rather eat a carrot than accuse Prompto of ruining his majestic hair.

As Prompto sits up and brushes off the remnants of Noct’s fur off his shirt, Prompto feigns a hurt expression and theatrically places his hand on his heart, “Ouch, dude, I’m an object now?”

“Nah, you’re just promoted.” Noctis stumbles from a sudden shove but he regains his footing quickly enough. If he hasn’t and Gladio has caught wind of it, training’s going to be evasion-oriented for a week and it’s going to be a hell-of-an-experience. Now Noctis doesn’t want that, because his pride won’t accept the fact that he’ll be running away from Gladio’s attack most of the time— meaning there won’t be an opportunity to punch his Shield in the face.

“From a consort to a bed? Geez, Noct, you do know how to make a guy feel special,” Prompto whines, but his giddy expression betrays the genuinity of his sarcasm. Making their way to the kitchen, where an alluring aroma entices them to see what Ignis has whipped up for tonight, Noctis shakes his head and shoves Prompto back. 

“I can give you more if you want to,” Noctis teases suggestively.

Prompto, as usual, is quick to catch on. Just as they enter the kitchen with Ignis adding his final touches to his dishes, the blonde replies with his voice dropping an octave lower, “Oh ho, count me willing _and_ interested.”

“ _Children_ , not in the kitchen, if you will,” Ignis accentuates with an exasperated yet fond glint in his eyes. Well, it isn’t exactly the first time the advisor has walked in them all lovey-dovey and downright flirty. There have been worse situations— ones that everyone involved would very much like to _not_ remember but is ultimately blackmail material. 

“Sorry, Specs,” Noctis deadpans without looking apologetic at the slightest. After years of handling the prince, Ignis remains unfazed.

“We’ll keep it down. Scout’s honor!” Prompto chimes in with a grin before helping Ignis place their dinner on the table. Of course, Noctis being Noctis, has immediately made himself comfortable on a vacant chair and slouched like no tomorrow. 

“Good, at least I can trust one of you to maintain decency during dinner,” Ignis comments, earning a pout from Noctis.

“Hey, I can be decent!” Noctis defends because, really, Ignis is underestimating his lifestyle and decisions. He can handle himself well, thank you very much.

Just not with anything that requires an excessive amount of energy, of course. He can’t pull an Ignis-quality output, but considering the state of Prompto’s home whenever they decide to hang out there instead of the apartment, Noctis presumes his effort is passable nonetheless.

“Shedding fur all over your food is nowhere near decent,” Ignis points out. 

Surprised by the admission, Prompto whips his head around to face the prince with curiosity. “Dude, what? When?”

Noctis immediately scrambles for a response, “It was one time!”

“The one time you mistook your current form and behaved like a human rather than a cat. During lunch, might I add. Perhaps it is one time albeit a memorable one indeed,” the advisor unabashedly clarifies.

Noctis remembers that clearly; in fact, he can still recall Ignis’ mortification upon seeing a cat sit on a dining chair like a grumpy teenager. Revisiting that memory for Ignis’ reaction is fine. But revisiting Noctis' table mannerisms as a cat is _not_ , because for the love of Bahamuth is it so disconcerting to see a cat perfectly imitating normal Noctis’ slouched posture.

“I was hungry!”

“And yet, seconds later, you ‘complained’ about having fur all over your dinner,” he continues. “Truly a _cat_ astrophe.”

To his right, Prompto bursts out laughing, his eyes glinting with mischief and enthusiasm bundled into one. Had this been any other day, Noctis would’ve marveled at him rather than feel betrayed. For shame to their friendship alright. Either way, the prince buries his face in his calloused palms and groans at the pun.

“Nice one, Iggy!” Prompto compliments. Unfortunately, Noctis is too engrossed in his shame to chastise the other, since it will only make Ignis share more cat puns. Noctis can’t really tell since this is Ignis for crying out loud— this man three years Noct’s senior can snap his fingers and exclaim _“I’ve come up with a new recipe!”_ in the middle of the night and promptly go back to sleep.

(Speaking from the hypothetical, of course, since Ignis will make vegetarian meals should Noctis decide to push his luck further than intended. But hey, who’s to say it’s something that Ignis _doesn’t_ do in his spare time?)

“Thank you, Prompto. I’m glad someone appreciates my humor,” Ignis says.

“Seriously,” Prompto, with a dopey grin that’s part stupid and part adorable, faces Noctis, “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

“Because it’s stupid,” Noctis retorts, before thanking his lucky stars that he said stupid instead of adorable. No way in Ifrit’s domain is he going to call his thirteen-year-old self, who’s dedicated most of his time doing nothing but learning how to look cool, adorable.

Prompto snorts, “Nah, you’re stupid for not telling me!”

“Oh yeah?” Baited, Noctis kicks Prompto’s leg under the table. It’s completely childish and immature of him, but it works wonders in riling up the blonde. “Well, you’re stupid for getting ahead in King’s Knight without me!”

“Shall we have our fill before dinner gets cold?” The advisor interrupts the two before the fight can escalate to a food fight (it happened once, and Ignis is damned to let it happen all over again). Although Noctis would very much like to ignore Ignis and continue his antics, Prompto thinks otherwise (damn him, but at the same time, bless him). After all, Ignis’ cooking is better than any take-outs and last-minute pizza deliveries.

Nothing really dramatic happens. But with Prompto present, the ambiance is livelier than usual. Beyond Ignis’ usual report that details what princely duties Noctis has to fulfill within the week, a quick catch-up with anything and everything, the conversation often steers to what Prompto has recently taken pictures of, how the animal shelter he frequently visits is faring, and how there’s this cute little pair of hamsters that’s been catching his attention lately--

(Ignis is throwing him this _“By the mercy of the Astrals, you are idiotically hopeless”_ glance when that topic’s brought up. Noctis will neither approve nor disapprove of the fact that he’s been giving Prompto a betrayed look as the blonde rambles on about hamsters)

In short, everything is an epitome of normalcy-- that is, until Ignis mentions one thing: “Correct me if I’m wrong, but October 25th is your birthday, yes?” 

Noctis’ spoon almost falls out of his grasp. “Shit, tomorrow’s your birthday?”

As the prince ignores his advisor’s disapproving glare at his less-than-stellar vocabulary, Prompto affirms with a shaky laugh, “Uh, yeah. Sorry, I kinda forgot about it to be honest.”

“Well then, an early happy birthday,” Ignis says. 

“We need a party,” Noctis asserts with a seriousness that is supposed to be found in council meetings and in the reports Ignis throws at him. “Tomorrow.”

“No, it’s okay! It’s fine! You guys don’t have to throw a party for my sake,” Prompto says as he fidgets with his utensils. 

“Nonsense,” Ignis cuts in, “It will only be a small one, nothing so grandiose.” 

“Yep. Just you, me, Specs, Gladio, Talcott, and maybe Iris,” Noctis finalizes, leaving no room for argument. If they threw a party for his sake, then no way in hell is Prompto not going to receive the same treatment. No matter how austere Ignis can be, or how many times can Gladio scare the living shit out of Prom with his muscles and looming height, Prompto’s equally important damnit and no one is going to tell Noctis otherwise. 

When Prompto is slightly mollified and accepts, Noctis barely bothers hiding his smile. Great, all that’s left to worry about is the gift then. Fortunately for him, Noctis has an idea or two already at hand; all that there is fret about is where he should retrieve them. “I’ll be working until 7 tomorrow though.”

Ignis nods, “Then it will be held at night once everyone’s schedule has cleared up.”

“Great,” Noctis inputs, “Tell Gladio to bring the good stuff.”

“And risk another night of alcoholic poisoning? Of course, Your Highness.” 

“Wait, what about Talcott and Iris?” Prompto asks.

“Depends on the course,” Ignis supplies. “But it will most likely be fruit punch.”

Noctis shrugs. “Sounds good enough for me. Wouldn’t want to get an earful from Gladio for letting Iris anywhere near alcohol.”

“It’s going to be one helluva night if that happens.” Finished with his meal, Prompto leans back on the chair and sighs, “Thanks for the meal by the way, Iggy!”

“You’re welcome, Prompto. Would you mind helping me with the dishes?” 

Noctis leaves them to handle the dishes; instead, he excuses himself out of the room and makes a beeline back to the couch. Homework and everything else school-related (ugh) ignored, Noctis turns the television on and lets it sit on the first movie he sees before crashing on his beloved, custom-made couch that is as comfortable as his bed. By the time Prompto returns to the couch, Ignis has long left and Noctis inevitably has transformed back into his feline self. Cat night continues, even after dinner. 

As soon as the prince has felt a heavy dip on the couch, Noctis immediately repositions to Prompto’s lap. He doesn’t see the tiny bowl (shush, Noctis knows the name of it, but he doesn’t want to expend too much energy on a godsdamn plate) Prompto is holding until the blonde rambles: “Ignis says I should give you kibbles. But you don’t look hungry to me.”

On cue, Noctis perks up and paws Prompto’s arms several times.

“Okay, okay, geez!” Prompto laughs, feeding Noctis a piece and later watching him eat it like candy. “There. Here I thought you hate kibbles.”

Well, truthfully speaking, he doesn’t hate it per say. Tuna would’ve been preferable for dinner, but kibbles is kinda like rock candy… for cats-- meat and all that crap. He should probably mention it to Prom later.

When he’s human, of course. Prom’s head scratches are top tier right now.

  


* * *

  


As expected from Ignis, the party goes smoothly: Gladio’s brought the good stuff per Noctis’ request, Iris and Talcott respectfully know better than to drink those and opt for fruit punches instead, Ignis bakes a chocolate cake (that isn’t actually made of chocolates. Ignis only tells him that it’s for Prompto’s diet when asked) that made Prompto shed a tear or two (Oh boy, he’s never going to hear the end of it), and Noctis ensures that their resident photographer and self-proclaimed local idiot won’t drink beyond his limit, even if the prince is a little inebriated himself.

They find themselves lying down on Noct’s bed when midnight comes. The others have departed for the day after wishing Prompto a happy birthday, and Prompto is too incoherent to maintain his sense of direction. Between is the life-sized chocobo plushie Noct has gifted him, but Noctis is having doubts on his choice. He never should’ve bought a plushie this size when it’s taking up more space than Noctis and Prompto combined and acting as a buffer instead of an emotional support and hug receiver. Damnit, now he sees why Specs was skeptical.

  


(“Do you have a fucking problem?” Noctis glared at Gladio, who had no shame in making his amusement known to anyone within a five feet radius. Beside the giant hulk of a man, Ignis concealed his smile behind a gloved hand. 

They paid little-to-no attention to the crowd they had attracted, no doubt curious as to why the Prince of Lucis is purchasing a life-sized chocobo plushie that could suffocate anyone in their sleep. If Dad asked, then Noctis could just say it’s for himself; but, of course, Noctis knew that his father would smell his bullshit even before he said a word. Still though, the press would be having a field day on this discovery. 

But if buying an oversized chicken meant that Noctis could see Prompto light up with happiness, then the tabloids could kindly shove off with their bizzare rumors.

Thankfully, the cashier was too flustered by the eccentricity of the whole ordeal to realize that the Crown Prince just swore. 

“No,” Gladio lied with a huff. “You got it bad, Prince Charmless.”

“Indeed,” Ignis affirmed. Their charge’s distasteful glare only made the situation more entertaining. “Wooed by a chocobo plush. So let it be known in the courting history of the Lucian Kings.”

“I hate you, guys,” Noctis grumbled, but the way he placed the plushie on the counter greatly contrasted the tone of his voice. 

For once, Noctis secretly thanked Gladio for lending him that one cliche romance book. Terrible as it was, it did raise some good points.)

  


“Hey,” Prompto hollers from the other side, voice slurred, “I really want to thank you for today.”

Burying his face on the pillow, Noctis responds, “It’s no problem.”

“Seriously, it isn’t neze- necess- that important,” Prompto continues nonetheless. “But I appreciate it. Thank you.”

“It’s what friends do,” Noctis dismisses it without a hint of annoyance. Astrals forbid if ever Noct has the audacity to be bitter when Prompto is opening up his layers that are so easily painted with a happy-go-lucky personality. He feels a cold hand gripping his and squeezes it without sparing a glance. “You free tomorrow?”

A thoughtful hum fills in the silence. “Yeah, I think so? Why?” 

Well then, he might as well get straight to the point. It’s past midnight and Noctis oh-so wants to get this out in the open before he forgets: “We should go on a date.”

“‘kay.”

“As cats.”

“Sure.” A beat of silence. “Wait, what?” 

“You heard me.”

“Uh, dude.” There’s shuffling from the other side, but Prompto’s grip never loosens. Noctis is sure that Prompto’s wondering if this conversation is a figment of his dreams or not. Then again, Noctis would say the same. He’s not even sure if he’s awake. “Pretty sure you’re the only one who can shape-shift. Last time I checked, I’m not exactly royalty.”

“I can turn other people to cats.”

“Seriously?” 

“Mhm,” Noctis grunts. “Ask Ignis. He’s the one who has to deal with my shit.”

Just as he finishes his sentence, Noctis immediately wants to retract what just spewed out of his mouth. Turning Ignis into a cat is one of his biggest regrets he has ever made. Honestly, it has started out well-enough: with Ignis as a cat, he no longer has to hear about Citadel reports and other responsibilities that the Council shoves to his mangly arms. _But_ \-- and that is a big but-- instead of spending most of his time in the kitchen, Ignis has situated himself in Noct’s study room, diligently keen on keeping Noctis glued to his assignments and everything else that drives any thirteen year old to the brink of insanity.

So yeah, maybe referring to Ignis is a fatal error on his part. He sure as hell doesn’t want Prompto to hear about the time Ignis has used his feline self to his advantage.

“Wait, nevermind, don’t ask--”

Muffled by fabric, Prompto interrupts, “Is it a permanent thing?” 

Noctis snorts in response, “You think Ignis is still a cat? Of course it’s not permanent. It’ll just last a day-- no more, no less.”

“Okay,” Prompto says after a long moment of silence. It’s lengthy enough for Noctis to reconsider his idea of a date and come up with something else on the spot. Shortly after a yawn from the blonde, he continues, “Let’s do it: a date as cats. A cat date?”

“A cat date,” Noctis repeats, gently rubbing Prompto’s hand with his thumb. Noctis plans to kiss the blonde’s knuckles, but the last thing he wants to happen is to accidentally twist Prompto’s arm, trapped underneath that giant cockblock of a chocobo plushie, in the attempt to be as romantic as possible. So he settles with something comforting instead. 

The mattress shifts from the movement. Before Noctis can check, a pale arm coils around the plushie’s waist. Prompto’s hand is left relaxed and open, and Noctis takes the opportunity to intertwine his other free hand with it. They are so going to regret this position come morning, but neither are sober enough to see the downside of it.

Either way, it’s a peaceful night-- one that is infinitely better than the times where only Noctis occupies the apartment.

  


* * *

  


“Look, I know this is supposed to be a date,” Prompto says, catching the attention of the others within earshot. “But-- no offense to you, guys-- why are Gladio and Iggy tagging along?”

Noctis looks between his retinue and shrugs, “Third-wheelers.”

“For security purposes,” Ignis corrects. 

“In case someone decides to adopt you two as housepets,” Gladio gruffs.

“Huh,” Prompto places his hands on his waists. “Did it happen before?” 

“No,” answers Noct.

“Yes,” comes from the advisor and the Shield.

Noctis glares at them, but his targets have grown accustomed to his disdain and easily brushes off the underlying threat. So much for loyalty to the crown. 

“Okay then, what about them?” Prompto points at the front door, where a handful of glaives are stationed outside, waiting for the retinue. 

“Search party in case His Royal Jackass here takes you to the ass-end of nowhere.” Gladio nods towards a glaive, whose interest is no doubt piqued when the blonde has pointed their way. 

“Dude, you’re not planning to kidnap me, are you?” Prompto jokes. But after four years of knowing Prompto and one and a half year of being in a relationship with him, Noctis sees the worry veiled behind his words.

“I’ll kidnap you at the back of the Crow’s Nest and take you to the arcade,” Noctis deadpans, ignoring a scoff from Gladio and a barely audible _how romantic_ from Ignis. “Seriously though, it’ll be fine. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Noctis doesn’t know which of his accomplices has whistled, but whoever it is deserves a punch (It’s most likely Gladio. Astrals preserve his body if he’s going to land a hit on Ignis of all people) and a cold shoulder. Nevertheless, seeing Prompto blushing from his admission is a feat on its own. 

“As entertaining as this is, perhaps it is time for you two to prepare for your date,” Ignis states. 

The flush leaves Prompto’s cheeks. “Ah, right. Gotta be a cat for this date to work, right?”

“It’ll be fine, kiddo,” grins Gladio. “It isn’t as painful as you think it is.”

“See?” Noctis replies, as if he’s spent an entire hour convincing Prompto that the transformation isn’t as dramatic as teen drama and werewolf shows like to feature. 

“In the meantime, we’ll leave you two to it. Call us if you’re ready to leave,” Ignis says before heading towards the door.

“Don’t get frisky yet,” Gladio waves in dismissal, shortly following after Ignis and purposefully ignoring Noctis’ curses and Prompto’s stuttering.

With the two now the only occupants of the living room, Prompto sighs and scratches the back of his neck, which Noctis recognizes as a nervous quirk of the blonde’s. “Nervous?”

“Yeah,” Prompto admits.

Noctis takes a step closer to the other-- just close enough for them to be at an arm’s reach. Close enough for Noctis to count the freckles splattered across Prompto’s cheeks. Gently lacing Prompto’s hands with his own, he whispers, “It’ll be okay. You trust me, right?” 

Prompto releases a deep breath and nods, “Yeah, yeah, of course I do.”

“We don’t have to do this, you know?” 

“I know, but I want to.” When Prompto returns his gaze with confidence, Noctis smiles and squeezes their palms.

“Okay.” Taking a deep breath, Noctis prompts, “You ready?”

The blonde grins, “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

  


* * *

  


_It’s quiet-- Noctis doesn’t hear the distant blares of horns nor the chatters of the native birds. In the ethereal void of the Crystal, there is only him and a glowing figure with no definite shape nor form standing in front of him._

_Amid the absence of all things but them, Noctis briefly forgets why he is here, why the glowing figure holds his hands intimately, why he feels as if he is altering the presence before him._

_Yet, regardless of his unanswered questions, he hears himself speak: “Relax, nothing’s going to happen.”_

_A chucke echoes in response-- full of warmth with just a hint of worry, but so familiar nonetheless.“You get this up close and personal with the others?”_

_“Nope, just you.”_

_“Aw, aren’t you such a smooth talker?”_

_“What can I say? I learned from the best.”_

_For a brief moment, he sees a smile. But just as quickly as it has appeared, it vanishes without a trace. Yet, even if he has witnessed it within an infinitesimal record of time, he wants to see it again._

 _“If it helps, close your eyes.”_

_“Okay.”_

_The light before him shrinks, yet its grip on him remains nonetheless. It grows smaller and smaller until it nestles itself on Noctis’ arms, heavy yet light at the same time. Its warmth lingers, and its comforting presence stays with Noctis._

_He raises a free hand and caresses the bundle of light resting on his arm._

_And with a quiet whisper, he says, “Hey, you.”_

  


* * *

  


Ignoring the meows of the other cats present in the cafe, Gladio crosses his arms, leans back on the cushion of the seat, and watches his feline charge give goo-goo eyes ( _Shiva’s tits, Noct, what the fuck are you doing_ ) to a yellow tabby, who’s engrossed in fawning over everything but his unfinished meal before him. “Please tell me you’re the one who planned all this.”

Looking up from his phone, presumably scanning the reports or the news, Ignis spares a glance. “Unfortunately, I did not. Today’s itinerary is all Noct’s doing.”

“A cafe, a boat ride, and a walk in the park,” Gladio deadpans. 

“And a night under the stars at the Citadel’s rooftops,” Ignis finishes before taking a sip from his brewed coffee. 

“The fuck.”

Ignis hums, “Absolutely shocking, indeed.”

Upon seeing the leftovers on Prompto’s plate, Noctis nudges his head with the tabby to gain his attention and jerks it to the bowl. Thankfully, Prompto snaps out of his child-like curiosity and pushes the bowl to Noctis’ direction. Now Gladio’s no master of the feline dialect, but whatever it is the two are discussing ends with them sharing Prompto’s leftovers.

 _These two are absolutely disgusting._ Gladio concludes. _I’m so proud of them._

“I bet my fortune the bastard moogled ‘Good Date Spots in Insomnia’.” 

When Noctis briefly looks up from his meal, Gladio is on the receiving end of a spiteful glare and bared fangs. The message from the midnight-coated feline is clear: _”Don’t expose me, asshole.”_

Gladio smirks back, unfazed by the threat, and returns to his novel. “Just looking at ‘em makes me sick.” 

“Come now, isn’t this what you normally read in those novels of yours?”

Mildly offended that Ignis has compared the quality of his romance novels to this teenage drama in front of him, Gladio scoffs, “Pff, yeah, but it’s not a love story about a spoiled brat and a cat with the energy of a canine.”

At the mention of his name, Prompto pauses and meows in protest at Gladio. Unfortunately, reading Prompto is more difficult than Noctis since Gladio has never had the privilege to handle the blonde as a cat before. But he, along with Iggy and Noct, did have the privilege to witness Prompto struggling to be a cat for an hour or two. And since their resident photographer has his paws filled, Gladio has _humbly_ taken the responsibility to document this self-proclaimed cat date.

Noctis, on the other hand, is less kind than Prompto. Noctis excuses himself to Prompto with a gentle lick and jumps off the chair. Gladio doesn’t spot the prince for a few moments. But, as soon as the Shield’s felt the tell-tale claws scraping his shoes, it’s with great determination did he resist the instinct to kick Noctis back to his junkyard-of-an-apartment.

Oh, who is he kidding? Gladio doesn’t hold back when it comes to princes who either don't know how to court his boyfriend or cling to his other half and hisses at everything else.

“ _Oi!_ ” As Gladio bellows, an aggressive yowl startles the other patrons and animals within the vicinity. “Don’t ruin my shoes, you brat!”

Beside him, Gladio hears Ignis heave a sigh. Noctis quickly returns to his seat, glaring at his Shield with absolute hatred. Before the feline could so much _lunge_ and initiate a fight with Gladio or Ignis could diffuse the tension, Prompto snuggles up to Noctis and paws his side. Prompto mewls softly, coaxing the prince out of his instincts. Fortunately for Ignis, the method works: Noctis continues to throw Gladio baleful glares, but he quickly leads Prompto away from the table and towards the play area exclusively for cats.

Gladio guesses that the prince must’ve remembered that he’s on a _date_ with Prompto, not on the training ground where Noctis can experiment on whether or not he could warp-strike as a cat.

“You do realize that there is no need for such abrasive behavior,” Ignis admonishes, stern eyes daring Gladio to rile up and take the bait. “Even if His Highness should know better than to vandalize your footwear.”

But after years of cooperating with the advisor, Gladio knows that he likes his head where it is at the moment. So, he sighs and concedes, “I know. Sorry, Iggy.”

“It’s fine.” When Ignis returns to perusing his reports, Gladio finishes his cup of water and quietly observes his charges lazily lounging about on one platform of a cat tree. Cuddled up to Noctis, Prompto fiddles with a ball of yarn between his paws and occasionally nudges it to Noct’s way to ensure that his date won’t fall asleep on him (if that did happen, Gladio would teach Noctis a thing or two about courtship).

Being the Shield to the Line of Lucis has its perk. But it’s in moments like these did Gladio wish that they know a thing or two about relationships. Watching a soon-to-be-king pine over his significant other, even if they have already established their relationship, physically hurts to watch.

  


* * *

  


Under clear skies and the afternoon sun’s gentle rays, the row boat steadily moves forward, thanks to yours truly: “You two owe me big time for this.”

The suspects in question are on the opposite side of the boat, off in their own world and leaning on each other since a certain feline has the potential to capsize the boat or throw himself off-board due to his restlessness. Lucky bastards are enjoying the sights, instead of rowing the boat themselves. 

Gladio would give Prompto a pass since the blonde has the attention span of a curious child at the moment, but Gladio would not be so lenient on Noctis. The Shield knows when Noctis chooses to purposefully ignore anyone who tries to disturb his peace, and Gladio can see the signs now: the cat’s tail lazily flickers left and right, the only indication that he’s been heard loud and clear. 

“Come now, I never imagined you would complain about the physical exertion,” Ignis chimes, his perfectly-pressed outfit out of place for a boat ride in the middle of the lake. The advisor occasionally gives a passing glance to the other boats within the perimeter. Whether it is done out of sight-seeing or security reasons, Gladio couldn’t tell at the moment. Nevertheless, Gladio could spot a disguised glaive or two within a distance. The added security doesn’t hurt, especially when Prompto won’t stop tipping over the edge just to see the fishes or touch the hanging leaves of the willow trees. 

“Don’t get me wrong: I would’ve done this myself if this isn’t a goddamn date to begin with,” rectifies Gladio. “Never would’ve thought His Royal Laziness would put us in the picture in his planning though.”

“Good. It means that he is now exercising his consideration towards others.” 

“Needs improvement. We can’t always be here watching his hopeless ass,” huffed Gladio, coaxing a challenging look from the prince himself. It’s a look that Gladio is aware of-- one that screams _“I’m going to do something stupid if you keep riling me up.”_

Ignis hums, blatantly ignoring the rising tension between the two since it has become quite a common occurrence today. “Unfortunately, His Highness could only tackle his improvements one step at a time.”

Fortunately, before Noctis can include his advisor to his annoyance, Prompto turns around and mewls thrice. In addition to that, he also waves his paws wildly. Gladio assumes the worst, since frantic movement and repetitive mewling normally screams trouble, and stops rowing the boat. 

As soon as the paddle is reinstated to its holster though, Prompto jumps down from his spot next to Noct, who follows after him out of concern, and heads towards Ignis. 

“What is it, Prompto?” asks Ignis. In response, Prompto places a paw on Ignis’ hand, the one that is holding the advisor’s phone. When the device is set down, the tabby nudges his nose at the camera. 

And that’s all it takes for Gladio and Ignis to put two and two together. 

“Figures,” Gladio says with a shake of his head.

Even as a cat, Prompto wouldn’t let go of his love for photography. It’s no wonder why he’s so damn interested in jumping off the boat or turning his head all around just to capture the moments that flutter past them.

“I see.” With a smile, Ignis opens the app. “Well, where should we take the shot then?”

With an excited mewl, Prompto instructs them with the best of his limited ability.

  


(When Noctis begrudgingly settles on Gladio’s lap for a couple of selfies, Gladio teases, “If you scratch my face, I’m throwing you off-board-- prince or not.”

Noctis is almost tempted to do so out of spite; however, the closest he can get without having Ignis throwing the _both_ of them out of the vessel and leaving them to swim with the fishes is by calmly putting pressure on Gladio’s arm with his claws.

Gladio’s smile in the picture is sincere, but his eyes tell a different story. The anecdote begins with _“You little shit”_ and ends with a near incident of a capsize.)

  


* * *

  


“Unfortunately, Gladio will remain in the parking area due to his allergy,” Ignis reports while he looks down on the cats in front of him. Noctis has once admitted that Ignis’ intimidation factor spikes when he’s in his feline form, and Ignis can presume that the fear stems from the height difference. Oh well, so long as he has leverage and the power to control his charges from going beyond their limits, then Ignis would gladly utilize this advantage for the better. “Which is why I strongly advise you two to keep yourself visible for the glaives and I.”

Noctis doesn’t provide his input as usual, but Prompto nods and mewls in affirmation. 

The responses are good enough for Ignis. “I’m glad to have your cooperation with the matter. Now, off you go.”

It’s Noctis who takes the lead and runs down the pavement, with Prompto tailing after him shortly after. With Gladio out of the picture, the walk in the park is relatively peaceful. Sure there are a number of passing pedestrians, tourists, and children, who would often stop and stare at the cats chasing after each other and jumping on leaf piles. But hardly anyone poses a threat in Ignis’ perspective. 

It’s an ordinary day indeed for the bespectacled man. Yet in some ways, it differs from what he considers normal. Of course, the idea of a cat date is a deviancy in the routine in itself. Supervising his charge and his date is not part of his normal itinerary, but it is, in itself, a welcoming change. Because for once, Ignis can get a glimpse of the life Noctis could’ve lived had he been born as someone else-- someone who isn’t burdened by the duties of the crown and isolated from his peers due to his title. He wouldn’t have to worry about the standards imposed upon him by the Council. He wouldn’t have to fret over a potential suitor who satisfies the Crown’s requirements.

Noctis would have his freedom-- the one gift that he desired ever since he realized the weight of the burden placed on his shoulders. 

It’s funny how he suddenly understands an aspect of Noctis-- not as the Crown Prince of Lucis and Future King, but for who he is really-- just by seeing him frolic in the leaves with a commoner, who has brightened Noctis’ world more than he thinks he does. 

The rays of the setting sun nearing its descent basks the park with its golden glow, and Ignis can see the way Noctis pauses and marvels at how the fading sunlight encases Prompto in a gentle embrace.

This is the boy whom Ignis groomed to be king. But here, Ignis sees a brother rather than a ruler: a brother who deserves the best of everything whether it be a well-deserved break, a confidante, a lover, a _life_ free from the weight of the crown.

In another world, in another time and place, or perhaps even in another universe-- if Ignis can stretch his limitations-- Noctis Lucis Caelum would find his place in the world, establish his identity that he has created for himself, and stand by Prompto’s side as he does now. And Ignis-- and daresay Gladio-- would follow them both as they do now. And so let it be decreed by their brotherhood. 

A rumbling on his hand breaks Ignis out of his trance. 

It’s a call, Ignis realizes. He presses the dial.

“So,” Gladio’s voice booms from the speaker, “How are the kids?”

Ignis’ attention shifts to his charges. From where he stands, he can see them exchanging flowers-- no doubt secretively picked up along the way. Well, it’s either that or they’ve done a competition wherein the winner is determined by the number of flowers gifted to the other. It certainly seems like it based on the accumulative pile.

Ignis feels the corner of his lips curl upward. “Well enough. They’ve been behaving well in your absence.”

“...You’ve watched them fawn over each other, haven’t you?”

“Sadly, yes. Once the date ends, would you like to procure some drinks?”

“Yeah, sure,” answers Gladio. “I need to forget everything that happened before Princess’ ‘signs of affections’ rubs on me.” 

“I couldn’t agree more.”

  


* * *

  


Alright, maybe the Citadel’s rooftop is a bad idea to end the night. Then again, Noctis hasn’t known that Prompto is acrophobic until now. Despite Noctis’ reassurances, the tabby hasn’t moved an inch away from the window ledge; he clings onto the frame, almost ruining its carvings with his claws.

It’s a shame Noctis can’t take Prompto to his hideout. But he won’t push the blonde further down his fear, so he lets it go. Jumping down to a lower ground, Noctis walks across the thin ledge with practiced ease, not once looking down, and returns to a nervous Prompto.

Once they’ve landed on the floor, a guaranteed “no falling to their deaths” zone, Prompto curls up against Noctis and mewls: _Sorry, Noct._

 _It’s fine._ The prince rubs his head on the other in co. He should’ve taken Prompto to the balcony to begin with. That way, Prompto wouldn’t have to worry about balancing his away to a platform. Either way, the night is still young-- the balcony isn’t too far from where they are now. Besides, Noctis has no intentions of ending this cat date on a sour note.

Decision made, Noctis pulls himself away from the other and leads the other to their destination. Now that they’re within Citadel boundaries, they have no need to worry about their third-wheelers and disguised glaives supervising their every move; tonight, it’s just them-- Prompto and Noctis, roaming around the hallways as felines and ignoring the curious glances and whispers from passing servants and glaives.

Eventually, they’ve reached their destination. They’re just a few meters away until Noctis abruptly stops from his tracks, earning a surprised yelp from the tabby beside him. Yet even Prompto is quick to silence himself once he realizes what has made Noctis pause. 

There’s already someone in the balcony peacefully relishing the serenity of the night-- someone, whose gaze is locked to the stars above and his back facing the two. But the tell-tale swishing of his tail informs Noctis that his father has noted their presence. 

Beside him, Prompto nudges Noctis’ side and jerks his head to the direction they’ve come from. However, before Noctis can so much nod, Regis calls for their attention, his eyes glinting with mirth. 

From that look alone, Noctis can tell that his father knows what they’ve been up to today. Someone has snitched them of their plans. Well, that or the press is indeed on a field trip, thanks to their date. He hopes its the former-- Noctis doesn’t want to deal with the PR crisis after today.

Prompto shifts his gaze back and forth between Noctis and Regis, no doubt unnerved by the whole ordeal. It only takes a soft headbutt for Noctis to reassure him, and from that little boost of confidence, the two occupy the space beside Regis. 

It’s an odd albeit welcomed feeling to sit beside the two people whom Noctis loved-- his father to his left and Prompto to his right. It has certainly never happened before under the veil of the night and the Wall. Then again, when is the last time he’s had this moment of peace with his father? It’s been too long, Noctis figures. For as he grows older, so do his responsibilities weigh heavier, and the diplomacy and strains of leadership on the King has further strained the time for bonding. The world doesn’t revolve around Noctis anymore, and soon he will be the one to carry the burdens of the Crown.

It’s intimidating to think about it, let alone the condition of his father--

No, now is not the time to continue that line of thought. 

A nudge from his left snaps Noctis out of his trance. Looking at his father, Noctis studies the way Regis wistfully glances at something behind his back and flickers his gaze questioningly back to him. Noctis looks at whatever it is that’s caught his father’s interest and--

Oh.

His tail is intertwined with Prompto’s.

Holy shit.

What a relationship goal.

He averts his attention back to his father. Suddenly, the unspoken question makes sense: _is it him?_

Astrals, of course this is how his father discovers his relationship with his best friend. Not as humans, no, but as cats. Of course.

Ah well, as he always say when the homework is too much to look at: _fuck it._

Noctis nods.

Regis smiles, and Noctis is glad that he hasn’t bothered bullshitting his response. 

The king looks back up at the sky, but Noctis fixates his attention to his Prompto instead. Maybe it’s the city lights from below, or the magical glow that the Wall emits; but like a while ago, when the setting sun has encased his best friend with a heavenly glow, Prompto is mesmerizing to look at.

And when the blonde returns his gaze, Noctis instinctively rubs his head against Prompto’s and leaves a gentle lick on his best friend’s cheek when Noctis parts. 

He can keep this memory-- a sweet remembrance for the future days to come, when the crown becomes too heavy to bear and when he feels as if he’s breathing his last. Nothing’s going to happen to his friends-- his family. Not under his watch.

He rests his head on top of Prompto and closes his eyes, allowing himself a respite and relish the moment he has now. Tomorrow can wait, just like everything else. 

_Happy birthday, Prom._

**Author's Note:**

> This took too much time. I'm supposed to be writing Etro!Prompto damnit. But that idea is multi-chaptered and it's going to take me more than a week to even finish a single chapter aaaa. The things I do for Promptis smh
> 
> Anyway, thank you so much for reading this far! As always, kudos, feedback, constructive criticism are welcome in my turf! 
> 
> See you guys on that freaking Etro!Prompto fic hhhh


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